


Alpha Mech - Tales from the Lost Light

by GuppyBot



Series: Tales from the Lost Light [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, The Transformers: Lost Light, prowl is an asshole, valveplug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuppyBot/pseuds/GuppyBot
Summary: Prowl has come aboard the Lost Light, much to the annoyance of Rodimus Prime. The duo quickly begin butting heads until the fight for alpha mech unravels rough fragging for the title.
Relationships: Prowl/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: Tales from the Lost Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024312
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Alpha Mech - Tales from the Lost Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl has come aboard the Lost Light, much to the annoyance of Rodimus Prime. The duo quickly begin butting heads until the fight for alpha mech unravels in rough fragging for the title.

The tension on the Lost Light was palpable. Prowl’s presence hung over the ship like fog, clouding everyone’s joy. Especially Rodimus.

From the moment Prowl spot the carvings on Rodimus’s desk, both mechs knew this was going to be an unpleasant week.

“Is this  _ really  _ how you treat your own office?” Prowl berated, dragging a digit along the deep indents. “If a captain cannot even care for his own  _ desk _ , what does that say about the  _ rest  _ of his ship?”

Rodimus huffed, doing his best to ignore the officer. Prowl had come aboard to assess the damage after a particularly violent encounter with Vorxian pirates. The ship had been unprepared, its armor disabled. There had been casualties, even a few fatalities. And so, here Prowl was, taking in eyewitness reports and  _ investigating  _ the validity of the prime’s leadership.

“Explain to me  _ again  _ the reasoning for leaving the ship’s armor lowered,” Prowl demanded, sitting across from Rodimus with a datapad in clenched servos.

“I  _ told  _ you,” Rodimus groaned, throwing and catching a model of Unicron above his reclined helm, “There was a slight shortage of energon. We were budgeting where it went on the ship, and at the time, we were completely alone out there. There was no need for alarm.”

Prowl’s door wings fluttered in agitation. “You  _ never  _ know when you’ll need your shields up and ready. Things can go out of hand fast. You know that just as well as I do. We  _ both  _ saw the war. We know how quickly battles can unfo-.”

The duo was interrupted by the door sliding open with a  _ hiss _ . Megatron lumbered in, taking a seat beside the officer. “I was indeed quite skilled at the element of  _ surprise _ .”

Prowl scowled. “I didn’t mean  _ that _ . I meant that having shields activated at all hours is crucial to the safe-”

Megatron interrupted him once again. “Crucial to the safety of the ship. Yes, we know. I believe our captain understands, as well. Don’t you, Rodimus?”

“Yep!” the young mech chirped, not much of a listener.

Megatron’s satisfied gaze met Prowl’s flaring glare. “If you’re through here, Perceptor said he wanted to talk to you. Not sure what about, but he said it was for  _ your  _ audials only.”

Prowl grunted in response. He looked over to the prime, daggers in his optics. “If you’ll excuse me.” He rose from the chair, his door wings folding together as he slid through the door.

Megatron waited for the sound of walking pedes to fade. “If you weren’t prime, I think he would have killed you already.”

“No doubt about that.” Rodimus straightened his back, placing the Unicron ball back on his desk. “What’s his  _ problem _ , anyway?”

  
Megatron sighed, rubbing a digit along his chin. “Optimus and I once discussed Prowl. Not deeply, but I do recall Optimus remarking on Prowl’s ability to calculate. I always envied the autobots for having that tool during the war, having a mech who could calculate trajectory and outcomes with  _ logic  _ and logic alone. When you rely so heavily on mathematics, emotions and the real world can become quite annoying. And you are  _ quite  _ emotional, Captain.”

“Emotion always gets in the way of logic,” Rodimus remarked.

  
“Exactly.”

  
~~~

Prowl had a habit of disappearing completely on the Lost Light. When he wasn’t digging into someone, he was off the grid, like some kind of vampire. Of course, this habit of his led to bets and gossip from the crew.

“I’ll bet you five quid that he goes into recharge every hour just to contain all that raw anger,” Brainstorm suggested while sitting in Swerve’s Bar.

“Recharge? Nah, I bet he sneaks through the vents and kills mechs in their sleep,” Whirl retorted, crude as always.

“He can’t fit through the vents,” Tailgate chimed in. “His doors are too big!”

“What’s  _ with  _ those doors anyway? They’re so… seeker like.”

Cyclonus brought Tailgate another round of energon. “I never liked seekers. I remember the days before their modern form. Now, they’re just sneaky little  _ cats _ .”

“What’s wrong with cats?” Ravage muttered.

The doors to Swerve’s slid open, and almost as if summoned, Prowl trudged inside.

Swerve forced a smile, already filling a pint. “A cop in a bar? Never a good sign!”

  
Prowl scoffed, taking a seat next to Ravage. “I’m just here for a drink. Unless your customers are engaging in some kind of violation?”

Swerve waved his hands nervously. “Nope! None that I know of.” A quick glance at Whirl.

“What are you looking at  _ me  _ for?” An annoyed echo from across the bar.

  
~~~

By the fourth day, the tension had only worsened. Rodimus needed a way to get Prowl  _ off  _ this ship. And soon.

The crew and passengers filed into the meeting hall, chatting amongst themselves while Rodimus prepared to address them. He cracked his neck and yawned, earning yet  _ another  _ annoyed glare from Prowl beside him.

Ultra Magnus leaned down to his Captain’s audial. “Are you sure this will help morale? It seems a bit… pointless.”

Rodimus cracked his servos, smiling up at his friend. “A party is exactly what everyone needs. A way to loosen up, have some fun!”  _ And a way to annoy Prowl off my ship _ , the young mech thought to himself.

“Did someone say party?” Swerve echoed from below.

“Yes!” Rodimus smiled, stepping forward to the crowd. “I know we’ve been through a lot lately. And I know we’ve lost some friends. But what better way to honor their lives than to live free and lavish in the joys of a war that has finally ended?”

The crowd whooped in agreement, already getting geared up.

“Our loved ones wouldn’t want us to live in sadness, would they?”

“No!” A collective roar.

“So then let’s have some fun!”

Music began to fill the hall. Drinks were poured and mechs began to loosen up. Prowl, on the other hand, only grew worse as the hours passed. By the second hour, Prowl’s optics burned low and his helm hung over the datapad in his servo, desperately attempting to distract himself. Rodimus beamed with pride at the view from the corner of the hall.

“It seems Prowl is not one for parties,” Rung commented, hovering close to his captain. “I don’t blame him. Neither am I.”

“Oh,  _ what _ ?” Rodimus laughed, wrapping an arm around his psychiatrist. “You always have fun at these things!” He waved a hand, mentioning to Swerve for another round. “Come on, let me get you a drink. I want you to have  _ fun  _ tonight!”   
  


Rung nodded, helpless against his captain’s strength. His pedes wobbled on the confetti strewn floor. “If he’s so miserable, why is he still here?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone except himself,” Rodimus huffed. “The idea of someone even  _ murmuring  _ something illegal keeps him here against his will.”

“What a shame,” Rung sighed. “He must be so miserable. Every day.”

The pair watched as a drunken Whirl stumbled his way over to the officer. The music drowned out any conversations, but Rodimus could see Prowl look up, already angered. Whirl stumbled into the officer’s arms, physically howling with laughter.

  
“This won’t be good,” Rung groaned, raising a hand to cover his optics in second hand embarrassment.

Prowl grimaced, begrudgingly listening to whatever Whirl had to say to him. The officer stood, forcibly helping Whirl to stand on his own pedes. 

Suddenly, the tone changed. Whirl must have said something. Prowl shoved him back, letting the mech stumble and fall to the ground.

Rodimus’s smile faded. He let go of Rung.

Whirl only laughed harder, pointing up at the officer’s growing scowl. Prowl bared his teeth and drew back a pede.

That was far enough for Rodimus to tolerate.

The prime shoved his way through the crowd, closing the space between him and Prowl. Prowl only had the chance to look at him before Rodimus grabbed his bull bars and shoved him back against the wall.

“That’s  _ enough _ , Prowl,” Rodimus growled. “You will  _ not  _ harass my crew.”

“Oh, is that an  _ order _ , prime?” Prowl chuckled, placing his own servo over the other.

Rodimus’s optics narrowed. “Yes, it is.”


End file.
